The Breeder readies to take the stage

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Jason Sandford

Jason Sandford is a reporter, writer, blogger and photographer interested in all things Asheville.

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As you, my loyal readers, may recall, I “covered” the air guitar contest over at the Westville Pub a few months back. Ashvegas was one of a handful of cities (all of them much larger than Ashvegas) to hold regional competitions to see who would be competing in the U.S. Air Guitar Championships.


Well, that day has come. The competition is Thursday in LA. This story in Sunday’s New York Times reminded me of the event, and of just how seriously these people take this shit.
And the All-American Breeder will be proudly representin’ A-Town. (The Breeder said his name comes from his background growing up and working to breed cattle. I’m not sure, but I think he actually had to jack off the bulls, collect the sperm, and inseminate the cows. A perfect upbringing for an artist learning to make love to an audience.)


The local contest was a blast. Here’s a little flava of what I wrote at the time:


I never realized what an imaginary masturbatory pleasure air guitaring is for performers, thrusting their hips forward and strumming their groins wearing their best orgasm faces. It must be quite a thrill.
The Breeder rocked his nads off. It came down to him and another guy. Both were bouncing around the stage and ripping each other’s clothes off. They air guitared “Paradise City.”


The winner this week in LA will go on to fight for the world crown. That ax battle is in Finland.


But I’m here to tell you, the competition is about to get nasty. Here’s the NYT writer, an air guitarist himself, talking about what it takes to win:



Wearing a silver jumpsuit and star-spangled armbands filled with dry ice, and rocking under the moniker Björn Türoque (pronounced tu-RAWK), I froze out the other contenders with my explosive rendition of “Set Me Free” by Sweet (an obscure yet classic glam-rock anthem). Advanced airmanship to be sure.


Air guitar is not about pretending to be a rock star. You must be that rock star. You might not need to put dry ice in your armbands to create smoky contrails as you strum, but it helps. As far as other wardrobe options go, nudity is an obvious attention-getter and has become a performance staple, but so far it hasn’t won any competitions. And to paraphrase Twain, clothes make the air guitarist.


Another key component is your stage name. Puns are good, like Air Lingus (an Irish-American competitor), Air-Do-Well, and Air-satz. Something simple and to the point, like the Shred, works too. And don’t go with a slow song, as I mistakenly did last year with Air Supply’s ballad “Making Love Out of Nothing at All,” which, when up against the lightning-fast licks of “Queen in Love” by Yngwie Malmsteen, quickly deflated. You may want a track with which the audience is familiar, but avoid clichés like Van Halen’s “Eruption” (the air guitar equivalent to playing “Stairway to Heaven” in a guitar store) or Jimi Hendrix’s rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner.”


Finally, air guitar is an instrument, but it’s an entirely different instrument from the so-called “real” guitar. So don’t focus on your fingering too much as you play. Remember, if you hit a bad note only you will know. Instead, engage the crowd: make eye contact, perch yourself on the monitor and flutter your tongue; make fans get out their air lighters.



Breeder, good luck to ya. You’re gonna need it.

Jason Sandford

Jason Sandford is a reporter, writer, blogger and photographer interested in all things Asheville.

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